


On Dating Martin Aldrich Holmes-Crieff

by in_the_bottle



Series: Brothers [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_the_bottle/pseuds/in_the_bottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Telling your date/girlfriend/partner about your family can be a tricky business when you're Martin Crieff...</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Dating Martin Aldrich Holmes-Crieff

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written anything new in over a year, so I'm glad I managed SOMETHING before 2013 ended!! Its a short one, but something that's been rolling around in my head for a while now. Spoilers for series 4 of Cabin Pressure, but with my slight AU take on things. Many thanks to [](http://king-touchy.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://king-touchy.dreamwidth.org/)**king_touchy** for the speedy beta!

Despite half of his family being what some people might refer to as "posh", Martin Crieff had never been comfortable attending formal dinner functions. Not that he'd had that many opportunities to do so after turning 16, which only made attending such events even more torturous and nerve wrecking as an adult; Martin no longer have the excuse of being a teenage boy to blame his awkwardness on. It really didn't help that he was very much aware that half the room was made up of various European royalties and the other half consisted of high level foreign dignitaries. Posh really didn't even _begin_ to cover it.

So far, reactions to being introduced to Captain Martin Crieff had ranged from 'Oh, what branch of the military?' to 'Private charter airline? Oh, how... quaint', and included were some incredulous looks of disbelief that a member of a European royal family would date a commoner the likes of Martin. Martin definitely hadn't thought it through when he agreed to go out with Princess Theresa of Liechtenstein.

None of it was Theresa's fault of course. Despite being a princess, Theresa was down to earth and had a genuine interest in all things aviation. Once Martin got over his nerves about dating a princess, Theresa was incredibly easy to talk to, and they even have a very similar sense of humour. Martin recalled fondly their 3rd telephone call (Martin was in New York and Theresa was in Denmark) where they debated for over an hour over the pros and cons of the new trend for large passenger jets the likes of the A380 jumbo jets.

"Relax, Martin," Theresa said quietly to Martin as she dragged him towards the dance floor in the middle of the frankly enormous grand hall in Theresa's home, which of course also happened to be an actual castle. "They're just people like you and I."

"No, they're people like you. Important, rich, royal people. I'm just me, a pilot," Martin said. "Nothing more than the hired help to everyone in this room."

"Not to me, you're not. Also, you're more than a pilot. You're a Captain and a part owner of an airline."

Martin was thankful to Theresa for trying to boost his confidence, but unless he was Sir Richard Branson, he doubted any of that would make an ounce of difference to the people in the room. Everyone except Theresa, of course. "You're pretty good at this," Theresa commented as Martin spun her around the dance floor gracefully.

Martin reminded himself to get Aunt Ana something nice for Christmas this year because he was now very grateful for the formal ballroom dance lessons that she insisted Martin and Sherlock attend for two summers in a row after Martin turned 14. While neither he nor Sherlock were too happy about being stuck with an elderly dance instructor for an hour every weekday for what seemed like months on end to a teenage boy, the lesson seemed to have stuck even after all the years. Martin was glad that he at least wasn't going to embarrass himself or Theresa on the dance floor.

"Didn't expect the hired help to know how to ballroom dance?" Martin asked, sounding bitter.

"Martin!" Theresa sounded hurt.

"I'm sorry, Theresa. I didn't mean that," Martin apologised immediately. "I'm just not very good at this sort of thing and I'm trying very hard not to be an embarrassment to you."

"Oh Martin, you're not. I should've probably been more thoughtful and not have you attend such a large function with me on our second date. But you've been so lovely and I just wanted everyone to meet you. Does that sound like I'm embarrassed by you?"

"No, no it doesn't," Martin replied, feeling his cheeks heat up at Theresa's words. It still boggled his mind that he was dating an actual real life princess. "But you have to admit, from the Duxton Air Show to this," he nodded to indicate their surroundings, "is a bit of a leap."

Theresa's giggled. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" She turned somewhat serious as the music started to slow and fade. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. You'd think I've learned my lesson after scaring off a few ex-boyfriends..."

Finishing the dance, Martin held Theresa's hand as they made their way back to their table. "A little more than an hour's warning next time would be appreciated," Martin said as they sat down once again. Now that the formal dining part of the night was over with, they pretty much had the table to themselves as the rest of the occupants were either busy dancing or off conducting unofficial state businesses, making connections and expending various networks and whatnot.

"I did consider that, but I thought you might start thinking too much. This way, you don't have time work yourself up into a panic attack."

Martin had to concede that Theresa did have a point. Briefly he wondered how Theresa got to know him so well just after one formal date and the dozen or so phone calls and text messages they had exchanged over the last month and a half.

"Also, you should ignore Jean-Pierre, he was completely out of line," Theresa continued.

"Don't remind me," Martin groaned, feeling the embarrassment of being utterly dismissed by the French ambassador to Switzerland rising once more.

"It was completely rude of him. It doesn't matter what you do for a living. You are my guest and he should've accorded you some respect." Theresa huffed, clearly still upset. Though Martin wasn't sure whether she was upset on his behalf or was it because by being rude to Martin the French ambassador was indirectly also being rude to Theresa herself.

"It's not as though he was wrong," Martin muttered.

"Oh, Martin..."

"It's alright, Theresa," feeling his throat suddenly going dry, Martin took a sip from his glass of water. "I think I'm going to call it a night. You should go and be social."

Theresa looked at Martin, the worry plainly visible in her eyes.

"I'm fine," Martin reassured her with a smile. "I'm just still a little jet-lagged. I did just fly all the way from Singapore."

"Of course! How inconsiderate of me. I'm sorry Martin, I should've remembered," Theresa waved towards one of the butlers standing not too far away from them. "Marco, can you show Captain Crieff to his rooms, and get him whatever he needs for his stay."

"Yes, Your Highness," Marco the Butler replied politely.

"Theresa..." Martin started to protest. He knew the way to his rooms, or at least he probably could remember his way after being shown to them just before being told of the function earlier in the evening.

"No, Martin. I would not hear of it. I would accompany you upstairs myself, but unfortunately, I have to stay a little longer. I have been a terrible friend to you tonight, so Marco will be at your disposal until I'm free from my duties for the night," Theresa insisted, her tone gentle but firm. She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I promise I will make it up to you later. Now go to bed, I should have noticed earlier that you look like you're about to fall asleep on your feet."

Standing up, Martin followed Marco the Butler out of the great hall, a quick glance back revealed Theresa headed in the direction of the French ambassador with a determined look on her face. Martin wasn't sure he wanted to know what Theresa was going to say and once out of the hall, he could feel the wariness from the day catching up with him.

* * *

After almost five months together, Martin still had no idea why Theresa was with him. Sure, his confidence in his skills as a pilot had increased after spending two years flying all over the globe with Sherlock, chasing down a global criminal mastermind. However, the same couldn't be said for his social skills. After two years with _Sherlock_ , to be honest, it was a surprise that his social skills hadn't gone _backwards_ as a result.

While Theresa seemed completely at ease spending time in Martin's world of aviation, Martin still felt incredibly out of place at the various state functions all over the world that Theresa brought him along to. He was fine when it was just the two of them, or even with Theresa's family who had been incredibly welcoming despite the King's occasional bratty behaviour. The time he spent as a child and teenager at the Holmes's family estates also prepared him somewhat for the grand buildings and palaces that was part of Theresa's world, but the looks and whispers from other people still grated at him. The worse thing was, Martin knew they were right to question his place by Theresa's side. Martin was a pilot and co-owner of a tiny private airline, a nobody compared to the princes, princesses, and other heads of states that were part of Theresa's peer group. Just who the hell was he to be dating a royal? She was the effective head of state of a wealthy European country until her brother reached the age of majority to officially take over the throne, which was still about 10 years away.

Of course, Martin hadn't actually managed to introduce anyone from his family to Theresa yet, or if he was being completely honest, even _told_ anyone about Theresa. The only reason his colleagues at MJN Pegasus Air knew about Theresa was because they were there when she asked him out. On the other hand, Martin was quite sure that Mycroft knew of the relationship because, well, he was _Mycroft_. By extension, Aunt Ana and his father probably knew as well. Sherlock could care less who he was dating, and Martin really didn't even want to think how the Crieffs would react to this particular piece of news, especially Simon and Caitlin.

Theresa had also started asking him about his family and so far, other than telling her that his dad passed away a few years ago, Martin had managed to evade all of her questions purely because he had no idea how to even explain Sherlock and Mycroft and the whole complicated mess that was his family life. Theresa hadn't pushed him, but Martin knew he couldn't put it off forever, not if he wanted this relationship to go any further, which he did. Theresa was everything he could ever hope to find in a partner. As well as their shared interests, she was also beautiful and a genuinely caring person who wasn't afraid to go after what she wanted, something Martin greatly admired about her. Other than the fact that he was struggling to find a way to tell Theresa about his family, Martin felt that he could tell her his dreams and ambitions without being laughed at or ridiculed. When it was just the two of them, Martin felt...comfortable just being himself. Martin knew he was slowly falling in love with Theresa, and the only thing holding him back from toppling head over heels was this whole royalty business and what came along with it.

"Earth to Captain Crieff!"

Martin almost jumped out of his skin when Theresa blew a breath in his ear. They were at the drinks and canape part of the evening, and Martin was holding a glass of champaign and standing by a wall, apparently deeper in his thoughts than he'd realised.

"Are you all right?" Theresa asked, her concern for him plain for Martin to see.

"Oh, yes. I'm fine. Sorry," Martin apologised. "Just thinking."

Theresa raised an eyebrow in question.

"I'll tell you later," Martin promised.

"Ok. If you're sure," Theresa paused, looking uncertain. "I know you hate attending these functions, and I'm sorry to keep dragging you to all of them, but... " Theresa sounded uncharacteristically vulnerable, which only made Martin felt guilty.

"Its part of your duty until your brother comes of age, and it's also the only way we can see more of each other. Don't worry about it, I understand," Martin reassured her. "I just wish we could spend more time together, just the two us without everyone else."

"Me, too. I promise I'll try to make more time for us and stop attending so many of these pointless events. But right now, come, I want you to meet someone. He's British, too. Maybe you'll have something common to talk about," Theresa linked her arm with Martin's and as usual when it came to functions like this, Martin followed her lead.

"You do realise, just because he's British doesn't mean that we'd have anything else in common?" Martin asked, amused despite himself.

"True. But he's an important man with many connections. You know how much I dislike politics, but even I cannot deny that it's good to know people with good connections. And there he is," Theresa gestured towards a man halfway across the room who was speaking to none other than the blasted French ambassador.

Martin stopped suddenly in his tracks, almost causing Theresa to stumble in her high heels at the sudden halt, but she managed to stay upright.

"Martin? You don't have to worry about Jean-Pierre..." Theresa said, but Martin's attention was on the man that Theresa had pointed out. Despite only having the view of his back, there was no mistaking who he was.

"Theresa?" Martin asked. "Who did you say he was?"

"Oh, he'd tell you he's a mere British civil servant, but anyone worth anything knows better than to believe him. Come," Theresa once more dragged Martin forward towards the pair in conversation. "There you are Mr Holmes!"

"Your Highness," Mycroft Holmes greeted Theresa with a genuine smile before turning his attention to Martin. "Martin, I'm glad I managed to catch you in this crowd."

"Mycroft, I had no idea you were here!" Come to think of it, Martin wasn't sure why he was at all surprised to see Mycroft. Events such as these were practically part of Mycroft's (un)official job description.

"You know each other?" The incredulity in the French ambassador's voice was clear, reminding Martin of the last time they met. There was a brief glint in Mycroft's eyes which neither Theresa nor the French ambassador seemed to have picked up. Martin knew his brother well enough to know that in the next few days, there will be newspaper headlines of the French conceding some important diplomatic point to the British.

"Of course. Martin's my brother," Mycroft answered plainly, as though Jean-Pierre had asked an extremely stupid question.

Jean-Pierre didn't look convinced. "You jest! He's just a pilot!" Completely dismissing Martin.

"Jean-Pierre!"

Mycroft held out a hand, stalling Theresa's protest. "I assure you Mr Ambassador, I do not jest when it comes to my family. Martin is my younger brother."

"You do not even share the same last name! He's called Kiff!"

"Crieff! The name's Crieff, not Kiff!" Whether it was because Martin's had enough of the French ambassador's attitude or because having Mycroft around boosted his confidence, but he finally snapped. "Captain Martin Aldrich Holmes-Crieff. And what's wrong with being a pilot?"

"Precisely," Mycroft agreed. "Martin's leadership and piloting skills have come in rather handy over the years," Mycroft continued, his tone suggesting far more than what the actual words conveyed.

"I... see," Jean-Pierre paled at whatever he thought Mycroft might be implying.

Mycroft turned his attention to Martin, "Mother's been asking after you, Martin. I know you wanted to break the news yourself, but I had to tell her about Princess Theresa to stop her worrying. You really should give her a call soon."

"I... uh, yeah. You know I've been busy, but of course I will ring her." Martin replied, somewhat confused over why Mycroft was bringing up Aunt Ana at this time.

"Captain Crieff," the French ambassador sounded as though he was being strangled. "I apologise," he then turned to Mycroft, "Please give my regards to Madam Valois-Holmes. If you will excuse me," Jean-Pierre nodded at them before he turned around and left, leaving Martin rather flabbergasted in his wake.

"Well," Theresa said, looking back and forth between Martin and Mycroft. "That was unexpected."

"I have always thought that Jean-Pierre needed to get over his own sense of self-importance," Mycroft commented. "Typical of the French, really."

"Did you just imply to the French ambassador that I run covert operations for you?" Martin frowned.

Mycroft gave Martin a look.

Martin blinked. "That... no, that was family. It doesn't count," Martin protested, knowing Mycroft was reminding him of the two years he spent with Sherlock taking down Moriarty's criminal network. "And I was only the pilot!"

"My contacts in Hong Kong would say differently," Mycroft countered. "And since your return, let's not forget Madrid, Budapest, Xian, Cape Town," Mycroft held out his fingers, counting as he named each city. "Shall I continue?"

"They weren't... those were just..." Martin's protests died even before he could fully voice them, because yes, he had flown to those places over the last year and a half on the behest of Mycroft, carrying passengers and or cargos. Each time there was a sealed envelope addressed to him only to be opened in an emergency. He hadn't thought much of the trips, given that they were really no different from his normal flights, except for Budapest where he did had to break open the envelope, but that wasn't the point. The point was, Martin was still only a pilot.

"You are really brothers?" Theresa finally asked, looking more than a little bewildered.

"Yes," Martin said with a sigh.

"You don't sound too happy to admit that." It was only because of Martin's fluency in the Holmes's body language that he could tell Mycroft was hurt by his apparently reluctance to admit their relationship.

"No, I didn't mean it that way. It's just... It wasn't how I imagine introducing Theresa to my family was going to be like."

"You were imagining introducing me to your family?" Theresa sounded happy, even Mycroft's look turned approving.

"Well, yeah. That was what I was thinking about earlier," Martin admitted. "I mean, I kinda had an inkling that Mycroft might have already known, but I still want everyone to meet you."

"I'm sure Simon would be pleased," Mycroft snorted. As far as Martin knew, Mycroft and Simon had never met in person, but with Mycroft, Martin could never be completely sure. He really wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that Simon was one of Mycroft 'kidnap victims'. "On the other hand, mother had been thinking of inviting Her Highness over for Christmas if you ever get around to telling us about the two of you."

"I wasn't hiding the fact that I was dating Theresa," Martin protested. "I was trying to figure out how the Crieff side of the family would react and how I'd tell them. I wasn't worried about you or Aunt Ana."

"The Crieff side of the family?" Theresa asked, clearly confused.

"Uh... my family situation is a bit complicated," Martin replied. "Which is why I haven't really told you much about them. I didn't know how to explain."

"Come on, little brother," Mycroft said, leading them out of the formal dining hall. "I think it's time to let Her Highness in on the 'family situation' as you put it. After all, it's only fair to warn her about Sherlock."

"Please, call me Theresa, and I can't wait to hear all about your family!"

Theresa's clear excitement and Mycroft's solid presence beside him made Martin think that maybe, this whole 'family situation' conversation wasn't going to be so bad after all.

The End.


End file.
